


Collateral Damage

by xalypso



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:05:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6619054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xalypso/pseuds/xalypso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Lester, alias Switch, is the product of military experimentation with the ability to manipulate matter at will. He’s also the last original member of AR-X, a highly selective group of superheroes run by the United States government. However, a new villainous superpower by the name of the Syndicate has arisen, and its members have threatened total annihilation of the country- unless AR-X can stop them.<br/>What the others don’t know is that Phil was once the lover of the Blacksmith- the brainwashed Dan Howell, who is now controlled by the Syndicate. When AR-X invades the Syndicate’s base, Phil has to decide: will he follow the team and let Dan be destroyed, or risk the mission and try to save Dan’s life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collateral Damage

In the tranquil afternoon sunlight, it was all too easy to close his eyes and let the world slip away. Golden rays of warmth trickled through the windows, catching dust in suspended animation as they shone down, magnified by the thick panes of glass. The rolling hills outside were blurred by autumn’s thick watercolour strokes, blending rust and gold across the hillside, and all was quiet. Occasionally, a bird circled over the treetops, carried by a whispered breeze, which sent leaves spiraling down to earth.  
Phil had almost fallen asleep in his armchair when his phone buzzed. Three repetitive pulses, then a pause, and three more. His hands shook as the familiar burn of energy surged through him, and he lifted the phone to his ear.  
“Lester- it’s time. I’ll send a car at 5pm, sharp. Be there. And dress for dinner.”  
The line went dead.  
His call had come. Phil stood up and winced, the letter on his lap falling to the floor. He tightened the strap of his ankle brace, and allowed himself a small smile as anticipation flooded through him. Pulse quickening, he stepped over a magazine discarded on the floor as he made his way through the living room. As he walked past, the magazine subtly shifted with a flash of energy and was tidied away on a shelf.  
His room was sparse, with nothing more than the bare essentials: a bed on a curving oak frame, a low dresser, and a lamp on the windowsill. Phil opened his wardrobe, and his eyes wandered across the clothes inside. He pulled out a navy suit, classic, yet subtly modern with discreet silver buttons across the cuffs, and closed his eyes as static danced around him.  
He pushed their atoms sideways, and the clothes he had been wearing were somehow replaced by the suit in a single fluid motion, and hung over the bed momentarily, almost as though he was still wearing them, before collapsing into a crumpled heap.  
Satisfied, he adjusted the slender dark tie and fastened the buttons at his collar. Phil buckles an elegant watch with a silver clasp around his slim wrist, and stepped into the bathroom. He slicked his black hair back carefully with a tub of gel, letting a strand or two fall across his pale face. Perfect.  
Phil turned the doorknob quietly as he closed the oak door behind him, carrying an expensive yet understated leather briefcase in his right hand. He breathed in as the lift closed behind him, trying to conceal his manic nerves. Why now? Why him?  
When the lift stopped, the doors opened silently, and the only sound on the floor of the lobby was Phil’s footsteps as he left the building. Outside, a car was waiting as promised. Phil slid into the passenger seat, and waited, his mind anxiously flitting back and forth. It had to be something urgent, or the Director would have given him more time to prepare. Did that mean he wouldn’t be alone on the mission? Phil hoped desperately that it wasn’t the case. Since the old team had been destroyed, nothing had been the same. Two dead, one missing, a fourth in a coma- and him, the lone survivor.  
Interrupting his thoughts, the car it pulled up in front of an unassuming building- tall, dirty, and not out of place within the city, although few knew what was truly inside.  
The building was home to the AR-X project, and Phil knew it well. It was the place that his story had begun. They’d taken him on as no more than a ward of the state- an unwanted kid with nothing to do but, and they’d promised to improve his life. He’d undergone so many tests, so much experimentation, pumping his body full of chemicals and making him the weak man he was today, wearing braces on both ankles just to walk.  
They’d promised him strength, and in a way, that was what he’d been given. What he lacked physically, he made up for psychologically. Almost no one could rival his mental strength, with the capacity to force atoms to shift in time and space using nothing but the neurones and energy of his electric mind. It suited him, really- despite its limitations, it was wonderful for someone as lazy as he was to be able to pick up pens without even having to touch them.  
Obviously, he’d been required to sign a contract, and he was pretty sure that somewhere in there it stated he wasn’t allowed to use any form of superpowers when not on a mission, but they couldn’t prove anything.  
Phil nodded amiably towards the receptionist as he stepped towards the desk, and pulled his identity card from inside his suit jacket. “Phil Lester, here for dinner.”  
She nodded, and winked. “Don’t get into too much trouble. I want to see you back here in one piece, alright?”  
Phil allowed a smile to blossom at the corner of his mouth. “I promise. It can’t be anything that bad, right?”  
She raised an eyebrow, and sighed. “Well, with them, you really never know. It’s all too classified for me!”  
He grinned at that, and chuckled. “I know what you mean- even I’ve never been higher than floor seventeen. Goodness knows what the Director has on the rest.”  
The receptionist glanced back down at her computer, and tapped a couple of buttons. “There we are- you can head on up. The elevator’s empty at the moment, so if you go now there won’t be any rush.”  
Phil nodded in appreciation. “Thanks.”  
The doors to the elevator opened with a quiet rush of air, and Phil stepped inside. Mirrors reflected his thin face from all angles as he moved ever higher, silence hanging heavy in the air. What had once been excitement became apprehension, as it did every time a mission was called.  
The elevator stopped gently, and the panel on the wall lit up. Words flashed onto the glass screen.  
>>PLEASE SCAN YOUR IDENTIFICATION TO PROCEED.  
Phil sighed, and inhaled again sharply as the thin metal card shifted into his hand. Dutifully, he pressed it to the screen, his clammy palm leaving marks on the cold glass.  
>>RECOGNIZED: PHILIP MICHAEL LESTER. PLEASE PLACE DNA IN THE RECEPTACLE TO CONFIRM IDENTITY.  
A tray slid from the metal wall, and blue lights flickered in a circle around the deposit area. Gritting his teeth, Phil adjusted his glasses with his left hand and pulled a hair from just above his right ear. He laid it in the tray, and watched silently as the tray disappeared seamlessly into the panel.  
>>PROCESSING … PROCESSING … PROCESSING  
The word faded in and out on the screen. Phil chewed on his lip as he waited for confirmation- this was always the most nerve wracking part of the process. Supposedly, if the system denied you entry, you’d be vaporised in the elevator and nothing but atoms would be left. He half-believed it, knowing the levels of security in the building. It was odd, really, that they’d chosen a skyscraper in the centre of the city to be their main base. Surely that could only make the organisation a more obvious target, at least in his mind, but he supposed that those higher up than him had some sort of goal in mind.  
Suddenly, the console beeped, and Phil glanced down.  
>>PROCESSING COMPLETE. IDENTITY CONFIRMED. YOU MAY PROCEED.  
Relieved, he pushed his glasses back into place with two fingers and waited as the door slid back silently. Phil took a deep breath as he looked around the vast space the elevator had opened into- no matter how many times he was summoned there, floor seventeen never failed to astonish him.


End file.
